Come now and of our labours share;

None better can that weapon ply;

O mitigate Philander’s care,

Whose toil seems less when you are nigh.

Once more, dear Nell, I’d wish to see

You cheerful join the rural throng;

Your presence would enhance our glee,

And sweetly animate my song.

A
YOUNG LADY’S LAMENTATION
FOR THE
LOSS OF HER SISTER BY MARRIAGE.